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The Creeping Horror
Published 3 years, 4 months ago
Description
Good evening, it's Spooky Boo Rhodes coming to you from the lighthouse in the cursed town of Sandcastle, California. Tonight I have for you a spooky story about a creature in Connecticut that haunts the woods and attacks you when you call out its name. An urban legend if you will. Here in Sandcastle, we don't really have many urban legends because no one ever really lives to tell the tale of the monsters who hide in the shadows, but now with social media, people are sending me more and more stories that happen here in Sandcastle all of the time. You can send me your stories, too. Just visit my website at www.scarystorytime.com/submissions and fill out the form. Be sure to spell check and all that.
My book is now on sale at Amazon and select bookstores around the country. You can also pick up a personally signed copy from my Etsy page. Check out www.sandcastlehorror.com to get more information.
Now let's begin...
The Creeping Horror
by
My father was always the most caring of men. I know many of my friends had had problems with their fathers at some point. Some were prone to drink and others were quick to anger. My father did neither of these things. He had no problems expressing his love for my mother and me. He was a jovial, gregarious, man who loved life and loved those around him. He had the occasional beer or mixed drink from time to time, but never in excess. He was a very restrained and moderate man. In fact, I can only remember one time he yelled at me unfairly.
I was young, ten years old or so. I was playing with my friend, Benjamin in the back yard. We lived in rural Simsbury, Connecticut, the town was surrounded by mountains and deciduous forests. We were talking about which monster would win in a fight: the tomatoes from "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" or the clowns from "Killer Clowns from Outer Space." The conversation quickly burnt out when I quickly told my friend in a matter-of-fact tone that neither existed so it didn’t really matter.
It was then that my friend turned to me and said, ”Fake monsters aren’t that scary… Now real monsters, they scare the bejeezus out of me.”
I was worried that he was about to tell me a bunch of hogwash and try to scare me, but my curiosity overcame me. I had to hear more about this real monster. I paused for a moment before asking him cautiously, "Real monsters? What are you talking about?”
Benjamin said, "Don’t you know anything, man? Haven’t you heard of the creeping fiend?” I answered in the negative and he told me the story of the creeping horror.
My friend began, "They say that there’s something around these parts, that there’s a creature living in the woods. My dad told me he saw it once reach down from the trees and snare a full-grown deer and pull it up into the tree and rip it apart with its bare hands and my father would never lie to me.”
I asked Benjamin, "What does it look like?”
“It looks like a man, but he’s super skinny like he’s never eaten. He has an old gas mask on and he wheezes heavily. I’ve been told he’s a soldier that came back from World War II that had his lungs rotted by nerve gas. I heard that a flamethrower melted the mask to his face and he can only feed by reducing his prey to a puddle and sucking up the fluids. He was unable to live amongst people so they banished him out into the woods.”
Benjamin continued. "His name comes from the fact that he skulks around the woods and no one knows he’s there until you hear him wheezing right behind you, but by then it’s too late. If you hear him, don’t turn around because he will get you. Your best bet is to run for your life. They say he comes out to anyone who calls out his name. If you shout his name five times he’ll appear behind you."
I was a little scared, but I knew that Benjamin was probably lying to me. I told Ben, "You’re full of it! There’s no such thing as the creeping fiend.”
He quickly retorted, "If I’m a liar, why don’t we
My book is now on sale at Amazon and select bookstores around the country. You can also pick up a personally signed copy from my Etsy page. Check out www.sandcastlehorror.com to get more information.
Now let's begin...
The Creeping Horror
by
My father was always the most caring of men. I know many of my friends had had problems with their fathers at some point. Some were prone to drink and others were quick to anger. My father did neither of these things. He had no problems expressing his love for my mother and me. He was a jovial, gregarious, man who loved life and loved those around him. He had the occasional beer or mixed drink from time to time, but never in excess. He was a very restrained and moderate man. In fact, I can only remember one time he yelled at me unfairly.
I was young, ten years old or so. I was playing with my friend, Benjamin in the back yard. We lived in rural Simsbury, Connecticut, the town was surrounded by mountains and deciduous forests. We were talking about which monster would win in a fight: the tomatoes from "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" or the clowns from "Killer Clowns from Outer Space." The conversation quickly burnt out when I quickly told my friend in a matter-of-fact tone that neither existed so it didn’t really matter.
It was then that my friend turned to me and said, ”Fake monsters aren’t that scary… Now real monsters, they scare the bejeezus out of me.”
I was worried that he was about to tell me a bunch of hogwash and try to scare me, but my curiosity overcame me. I had to hear more about this real monster. I paused for a moment before asking him cautiously, "Real monsters? What are you talking about?”
Benjamin said, "Don’t you know anything, man? Haven’t you heard of the creeping fiend?” I answered in the negative and he told me the story of the creeping horror.
My friend began, "They say that there’s something around these parts, that there’s a creature living in the woods. My dad told me he saw it once reach down from the trees and snare a full-grown deer and pull it up into the tree and rip it apart with its bare hands and my father would never lie to me.”
I asked Benjamin, "What does it look like?”
“It looks like a man, but he’s super skinny like he’s never eaten. He has an old gas mask on and he wheezes heavily. I’ve been told he’s a soldier that came back from World War II that had his lungs rotted by nerve gas. I heard that a flamethrower melted the mask to his face and he can only feed by reducing his prey to a puddle and sucking up the fluids. He was unable to live amongst people so they banished him out into the woods.”
Benjamin continued. "His name comes from the fact that he skulks around the woods and no one knows he’s there until you hear him wheezing right behind you, but by then it’s too late. If you hear him, don’t turn around because he will get you. Your best bet is to run for your life. They say he comes out to anyone who calls out his name. If you shout his name five times he’ll appear behind you."
I was a little scared, but I knew that Benjamin was probably lying to me. I told Ben, "You’re full of it! There’s no such thing as the creeping fiend.”
He quickly retorted, "If I’m a liar, why don’t we